Whumptober 2019- Unconscious
by Frankie McStein
Summary: She felt awful. But it was just a summer cold, she was sure of it.


She'd never admit it, but she felt awful. Her head was pounding, waves of dizziness swamping her at random, unpredictable intervals. Her throat had progressed from a bit dry to scratchy to full on sore. Her blocked nose was making it hard to catch her breath, leaving her panting after every coughing fit.

'Summer colds are the absolute worst', she commiserated with herself, rubbing her itchy eyes for the second time that minute. The glare from the laptop screen wasn't helping at all, but she needed to get as much done as she could before the approaching storm knocked out the internet. Or the power. Or both. Robin's Nest had a small backup generator, but the only things hooked up to it were the appliances essential for food storage and the various security systems.

She really hoped the power didn't get knocked out too early; losing the internet was fine, but they were planning on watching a few films before starting on board games and cards.

Speaking of which, Rick and T.C. should be arriving soon. As soon as the arrival of the hurricane had been announced, Higgins had called them both and invited them to weather the storm at the estate. In all honesty, she wasn't too worried about Rick's apartment, but the idea of T.C. trying to ride out a hurricane in a trailer terrified her. She hadn't even thought that he would probably (definitely) have made plans of his own to keep himself safe.

They'd both happily accepted, and promised to bring food and beer with them. Magnum had grinned when she had told him, clearly loving the fact that she had gone from 'that scary majordomo' to a member of his family who worried about his friends.

And now she was wondering if she would even hear the purring of the Porsche when it pulled up with the way her sinuses seemed to have blocked her ears up. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with an audio book and her dogs. But she knew she'd feel better as soon as her boys (and just when had she started calling them that?) arrived.

Meanwhile, she still had payroll to process and next week's grocery delivery to sort and there was some sort of issue with the landscaping that she was meant to have settled at the start of the week. She sighed as she forced her eyes to focus past the headache; at the very least, she could get people's wages sorted. There was no need to her staff to suffer just because she had the sniffles.

...

The storm had hit a few hours before, bringing with it all the beauty and inconveniences promised. Clouds that looked bruised, black centres edged with purple, flooded the sky ahead of the rain flooding the land. The sea had risen up, whipped by the wind, and crashed relentlessly against the shore, the sand of the private beach completely covered by the raging ocean. The pressure in the air had grown to near painful levels with the three men making comments about their ears popping.

Higgins was doing her absolute best to keep a smile on her face, but she had started running a temperature just before the announcement that the roads were being closed. She had dosed herself with various remedies she had found in the bathroom cabinet, but nothing had helped much.

The ache that had started in the very centre of her forehead had spread down, first to her eyes, then to her neck, and then, between one coughing fit and the next, grown exponentially to encompass her entire body.

Moving _hurt_, every muscle and joint throbbing and burning. Blowing her nose made her ears flare with pain. Swallowing or talking made her throat catch fire. Just trying to look at something made her feel as though her eyes were swollen, like she could feel them rubbing against the bone of their sockets.

There was a film playing on the TV, courtesy of the cable Rick had brought to hook the laptop up to it. They had been playing poker, but she hadn't been able to concentrate and someone, she thought it was Magnum, had suggested they give the cards a rest after she'd lost her fifth hand in a row.

Her boys all seemed entranced, laughing and quoting various parts of the script. But she hadn't actually managed to figure out what they were watching yet. And it had been playing for nearly twenty minutes now.

A tickling in her throat warned her another coughing fit was on its way, and she stood, swaying slightly. In an effort to avoid the three men worrying and fussing- she hated being fussed over- she'd taken to making excuses to leave whenever she needed to cough. In her slightly dazed state, she didn't realise she had been on the receiving end of increasingly worried looks. In her mind, she was doing a great job of pretending she was a-okay.

Except, this time, she couldn't quite remember where the door was. Or how to make her legs do that thing where they carried her across the room. She stood, eyes fluttering, breathing heavily, for several seconds.

"Jules?" Rick drew the word out, worry and confusion in his voice. She tried to turn her head, but the room swooped down as she did and she had to either fall or be crushed. So she fell. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

All three of them scrambled to their feet and lunged toward Higgins as she suddenly slumped down, dropping like a rock. T.C. managed to catch her shoulders in time to stop her head smacking into the wooden flooring, and Rick quickly reached over for a cushion.

"She's burning up." Magnum had a hand on her forehead and was frowning at the heat he felt.

"She seemed a little off when we got here." Although he had lowered her head to the cushion, T.C.'s hands were still hovering near Higgins' head, as if he didn't know what to do with them, as if he might suddenly need to grab her again.

"She hasn't been right all night," Rick agreed, "but I thought she just had a cold." He and T.C. both looked to Magnum, who nodded.

"She told me it was just a cold when I asked yesterday."

"It is." Her voice was hoarse, and her eyes were still closed.

Magnum kept his hand on her, but moved it to her cheek. "Colds don't make people collapse, Higgy," he said gently.

Her face shifted into a weak expression of distaste. "'m not sick," she muttered, the words slurring slightly. "'m...just…" Her eyes blinked halfway open then screwed themselves tightly shut, and she gave a tiny whimper.

"Easy, Higgy Baby," T.C. whispered, hating the way his heart clenched at the pathetic sound. "You're gonna be fine." The only response he got was a quiet hum before the wave of dizziness that had crashed down over her swept Higgins away again.

...

She thought she was on fire. Flames curling around her face and coiling around her body. Strange. She'd always thought being on fire would be painful. She shifted her head... oh, there was the pain. Her breath caught in her throat, making her cough.

Something cool trickled down into her mouth, quenching the flames in her throat. She swallowed gladly, not minding the way it felt as though she had broken glass in her throat as the wonderfully cool water- yes, it was water. How was there water in a fire?- soothed the pain a little.

There was a voice somewhere, off beyond the flames. It sounded warm and gentle, didn't jar against her headache. She knew it. She thought she knew it. She let her head fall to the side as she tried to find the voice. She liked the sound of it, wanted it to stay with her.

But it was already fading away, replaced by the dull roaring of her own heartbeat as it echoed in her ears. That wasn't fair. She wanted the voice to come back, but it seemed to have gone. She decided, if the nice voice wasn't going to stick around, there wasn't much point to being awake. She was sure the flames could burn without any input from her. So she let herself drift away on the foggy cloud that was tugging at her consciousness.

...

Fire! She was actually on fire! She was sure of it! She could feel her skin burning, crisping, peeling away from muscle and bone. No cool water, no pleasant voice, just heat and pain.

She sobbed and tried desperately to move. She could roll, try to smother the flames, run for the water she knew was close. But something was pinning her down. No! She couldn't be stuck! She needed to move! She needed to run! She was going to die. She was going to die! She was going to be burnt up until there was nothing left!

She'd be nothing but a pile of ashes. Like Richard. They had burnt him up too. Had he felt this? Oh god, had she let them burn him for him to feel this agony? Oh no. Please no! She couldn't have hurt him like this!

She didn't even hear her own voice as she pleaded with her dead fiance to tell her that the flames hadn't hurt him. The pain and the panic were overwhelming, and she crashed back into the darkness.

...

Something cool was on her face. That was nice. She had a vague memory of a voice and thought it was nicer. But the cool something was very nice. She was so hot. And there was pain somewhere. It was far off, a menacing darkness that waved tendrils of agony at her and kept her from leaving the dim haze she was trapped in.

That was okay though. It was calm and peaceful here. The coolness was pleasant. Oh! And that murmuring? Surely that was the voice she had liked so much. Well, that settled it. Here was nice, and not here was pain. She would just stay where she was for a while longer.

"Ma'um'?" Oh, that hurt. Her throat was dry and felt as if it had been scrapped with sandpaper. She really didn't want to do that again. Something cold touched her lips, and she nearly flinched away but realised it was water. She took a small sip, hoping it wouldn't disappear while she struggled to swallow. It stayed put, waiting patiently while she sipped and swallowed.

She turned her head slightly as she felt her stomach twist, hoping the water would understand that she had had enough. It seemed to get it, leaving her mouth and going… well, wherever water goes when one stops drinking it, she supposed.

"Juliet?" Hey, it was that nice voice again. Oh! And she knew it!

"Thomas." It was a statement and she smiled slightly, proud of herself for naming the sound. She wondered idly where he was and suddenly realised her eyes were shut. Prying them open seemed like it was going to take a lot of effort, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to bother.

"Please open your eyes, girl."

Ah well, no choice in the matter then. She'd been right about the effort it would take. But the look on Magnum's face, the sheer relief, sort of made it worthwhile.

"Hey there," he whispered as her eyes landed on his. "You gave us a scare." So that was the emotion lurking in his eyes, fear.

"Sorry." Talking was a little easier, but she still wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it. Still, it made Magnum smile. His smile was a lot like his voice, she decided, a little blearily. Warm and soft.

She glanced away and caught sight of a hand resting near her head, followed the arm it was attached to up to a sleeping Rick. And just beyond him was an equally exhausted-looking T.C. Come to think of it, Magnum didn't look particularly well-rested either.

She flicked her eyes back to his face to check if he was actually sleeping too but got distracted by the small smile he was still directing at her.

"Get some rest," he was saying.

Although she felt she should be saying that to him, she didn't feel like starting an argument. Not right then. Maybe later.

She felt a smile growing on her own face, pulling the corners of her mouth up. Well, she'd been right after all; her boys were with her, and she felt better.


End file.
